


At Eleven and Seven

by ArchitectofSorrow



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Discovery, Star Trek: The Animated Series, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: After all this is the House of Sarek, Domestic, Drunk Vulcans, F/M, Family, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Interspecies Relationship(s), Young Michael, Young Spock (Star Trek), cuddly sehlats
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-04-26 22:16:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14411676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchitectofSorrow/pseuds/ArchitectofSorrow
Summary: After surviving a Klingon attack, orphaned 11-year-old Michael Burnham is taken in by the Vulcan ambassador, Sarek. Unsure why Sarek wanted her - the rest of Vulcan sure doesn't - Michael struggles to make Sarek proud and to find her place on an increasingly hostile planet.Meanwhile, Sarek's 7-year-old son, Spock, faces challenges of his own, as he tries to honour his father's demanding expectations, deal with his classmates' prejudices, and prepare for the kahs-wan ritual and the end of what little childhood he was allowed to have.





	1. Michael

Michael walked with Sarek. His hand was gentle on her arm, and she was grateful for the touch, for a link to anything outside her mind. His strides were long, and in Vulcan’s heat, she tired quickly, but he was pulling her to the future, away from the screams and the laughter that furnished her nightmares.

The city around her was dazzling. So much glass, some coloured, some clear, all reflecting the bright sun, almost too much to bear. She had read somewhere that Vulcans have a second eyelid that keeps out the glare, but her very human eyes were unprotected. She wished she’d brought sunglasses, but that would make her even more conspicuous. As it was, people were staring, and Michael instinctively moved closer to Sarek.

‘It’s all right,’ Sarek said. ‘No one is going to hurt you.’

Michael peered up at him. ‘Then why do they look like they hate me?’

‘Vulcans do not hate, Michael. It is illogical.’

Skeptical but too hot to argue, Michael dropped her gaze to the stones of the street. She watched her sandals pad along next to Sarek’s. She was already starting to pant in Vulcan’s thin air, and soon sweat streamed down her back and forehead.

‘I’m sorry,’ Sarek said. ‘The weather must be taking a toll on you. We should have taken a hover craft.’

‘I’m fine,’ Michael said swiftly. She did not want him to think of her as frail. Vulcans valued strength, almost as much as Klingons did. They claimed superior bodies as well as superior minds.

‘Are you sure?’ Sarek said. ‘Amanda – my wife finds walking even short distances exhausting in this heat.’

‘Not all humans are the same,’ Michael said.

Sarek raised an eyebrow. ‘I did not say so, and it’s not just humans who find Vulcan inhospitable. In any case, we’re almost home.’

Home. Michael swallowed. If she had not asked her parents to stay those extra days, she would be home now, her real home. Earth. She gritted her teeth together, trying not to think about it. Maybe Vulcans were right about the whole purging emotion thing. Right now, feeling nothing seemed perfect.

Sarek opened the doors for Michael when they went in. He sat her down on a sofa in what appeared to be the living room section of a vast open floor plan. He got her a glass of water and rested his hand on her forehead.

‘I think you’ll be all right,’ he said.

Michael nodded and sipped the water. ‘Thank you.’

‘Are you hungry?’ Sarek looked down at the empty coffee table in front of Michael. ‘Amanda will not be back until the evening, but Spock should be home from the Learning Center soon, and he usually has something to eat before dinner.’

‘A snack?’ Michael said. She could scarcely imagine the esteemed Ambassador Sarek making an after-school-snack for his kid.

Sarek nodded. ‘Spock chooses to do most of his physical training near the end of his school day. It builds up his appetite.’

‘Ah.’ Michael leaned back against the sofa, allowing herself to relax just a bit. She was still not entirely sure what Sarek wanted of her. But a theory was forming. Perhaps, the ambassador desired a companion for his son. After all, the marriage of Sarek and Amanda and the begetting of Spock had been controversial on both Earth and Vulcan. Maybe it was difficult for them to find a playmate for him – if Vulcan children even played. Then again, how Vulcan was Spock anyway?

‘How old is Spock?’ Michael asked.

 ‘He is 7. 407 of your Earth years.’ Sarek had moved across to the kitchen section of the room and was rummaging through the fridge.

Michael frowned. Spock was four years younger than her. The age gap was a bit large for filling the role of companion.

While she was still speculating, the front door slid open, and a boy came in from the outside. He was about a foot shorter than Michael and had round cheeks, pointed ears, and soft, inquisitive, brown eyes. He spotted his father first, and his eyes brightened, his lips twitched. ‘Father, you’re home! You’re safe.’

‘Obviously.’ Sarek did not bother glancing at Spock, and Spock halted halfway towards him. Michael shifted on the sofa, and suddenly Spock’s eyes were on her.

‘Who are you?’ Spock demanded.

Still buried in the fridge, Sarek waved his hand as a form of introduction. ‘Michael, this is my son, Spock. Spock, this is my new ward, Michael.’

Spock’s lips trembled as if his mouth was trying to drop open, but he bit his lip, effectively sealing his mouth in a line. ‘But why?’

‘Why, Spock?’

‘Why do you need a ward?’

Sarek frowned at Spock. ‘Do I sense jealousy?’

‘No, father.’ Spock lowered his eyes.

‘Good.’ Sarek got out fruit and set it on the counter, starting to slice it for a salad. ‘Because I trust you to be gracious and courteous to Michael in every way. She is going through a tough time. She just lost both her parents. They died violently at the hands of the Klingons.’

Michael cringed at such a blunt reminder. Of course, Vulcans were well known for their honesty, but sometimes, it just seemed cruel.

‘I am deeply sorry to hear that,’ Spock said quietly.

Michael nodded. ‘Thanks.’ She hugged her knees, despite the heat, and willed herself away. She felt completely drained. All she wanted to do was curl away in some forsaken corner and sleep for a long, long time.

‘Michael is without any close, living relatives,’ Sarek continued, sprinkling some sort of spice over the fruit salad. ‘So, I have decided she will stay with us, for the time being at least.’

‘I see.’ Spock sucked on his lip. He looked Michael over again. ‘Is she…human?’

‘Yes, Spock,’ Sarek said, wryly. ‘She is indeed human. You have seen human children before. There are some at the embassy right now.’

‘They never stay long,’ Spock said.

Sarek nodded. ‘No, I suppose not.’

Michael bowed her head to her knees. She felt the tears come, and she couldn’t stop them. She didn’t want to be here. All alone, unconnected and inconvenient, a topic to be discussed.

Sarek stayed where he was. He did not come to comfort to her, only stared. Spock at least had the decency to look away. Michael’s shoulders shook, and she sobbed until her chest ached. When she looked up again, Spock was standing near her, holding out a handkerchief.

‘It’s my mother’s,’ Spock said, as way of explanation. He pressed it into her hand and then stepped back quickly, as if he feared her emotional outburst might be contagious.

‘Thanks.’ Michael wiped her eyes and nose. Blood burnt in her cheeks, as she noticed that Sarek was still watching her.

‘Maybe you would like to go lie down for a while?’ Sarek said.

Michael nodded and pushed herself up off the sofa. Sarek moved towards the exit but stopped when the PADD in the front pocket of his shoulder bag suddenly flashed. He scrolled down through the incoming message. His eyebrows rose higher and higher as more messages flashed to life on his screen.

‘Spock,’ he said, ‘why don’t you help Michael pick out a room? Your mother just sent that word that she will be coming home early, and she seems upset that I did not inform her that I would be returning today.’

 ‘Yes, father,’ Spock said quickly. He led Michael out of the wide living space and into a broad hallway. There he hesitated. ‘I do not know what you desire in a room. Mother likes the rooms on the northside. She says they’re less bright, less blinding. Perhaps, you would like a room there?’

‘Okay,’ Michael said.

Spock licked his lip. ‘Currently, there are three rooms empty on that wing. Well, technically, there is a fourth, but it is reserved for T’Pau, so I would not suggest it.’

Michael shrugged. ‘Anything will do. I’m just so tired.’

‘Of course.’ Without another word, Spock led her to a spacious bedroom that overlooked a garden of blood grass and dragon trees. He showed her the bed, which was wide and low lying, and gave her a light weight night shirt. After wishing her ‘sweet dreams,’ he quietly exited. Michael collapsed onto the bed and, despite all her worries, was soon asleep.


	2. Michael

Michael awoke to six-inch fangs a foot in front of her face. She screamed and curled in onto herself, guarding her head with her arms. The fangs withdrew, and the huge bear-like creature whimpered softly.

‘I-chaya! I-chaya, come here, you big bother!’ The baby Vulcan – Spock – called from the doorway. He took a step into the room and shook a finger at the creature before turning to Michael. ‘I am sorry he scared you, but I-chaya will do you no harm. He is just a fat, old sehlat who has nothing better to do than snoop around in other people’s rooms.’

I-chaya whimpered again, and Spock crossed the room to rub the sehlat’s ears.

Michael’s arms dropped to her sides, but she remained rigid. It seemed that this sehlat held a similar role to a dog in the household.

It was a family pet.

It could kill her effortlessly.

‘You can pet him if you want,’ Spock said. ‘Really, he won’t hurt you, and he’s soft.’ Spock rubbed his cheek against I-chaya’s neck. The sehlat’s long tongue flicked out and licked Spock’s ear.

Spock repressed a giggle. ‘Stop it!’

I-chaya didn’t stop it. He knocked Spock playfully over with his paw then held him down, licked at him contentedly.

Spock squirmed. ‘I-chaya, let me up!’

I-chaya looked down at him uncertainly, as if he were trying to determine if his young master was being serious or not.

Spock threw his arms in the air. ‘You’re impossible!’

I-chaya took this as a sign to keep licking, and Spock rested his head against the sehlat’s side.

Spock glanced at Michael, and his lips flashed into a smile that was gone so quickly Michael wondered if she had hallucinated it. ‘See? He’s a big baby. Mother has told me that she was nervous around him at first, but he’s just a big ball of fluff and nonsense.’

Spock planted a kiss on I-chaya’s snout. ‘But perhaps you would prefer to be alone?’

He stared at Michael, suddenly solemn.

‘You can stay.’ Slowly, Michael slid off the bed and moved towards I-chaya. She held her hand out tentatively. I-chaya sniffed and then licked it. Michael smiled.

‘It tickles, doesn’t it?’ Spock said.

Michael nodded. ‘Uh huh.’

‘Father _never_ laughs,’ Spock said. ‘ _Never._ ’

Michael was not sure what to say to that, so she said nothing. She petted I-chaya’s ears and neck. Content, I-chaya rolled onto his back, exposing his belly and letting Spock up in the process. Spock got to his feet and straightened out his nightshirt, which was nearly identical to Michael’s. Thin and grey and short. His legs were surprisingly muscular for one so young.

‘I think I shall see if I can help with breakfast,’ Spock said. ‘You can rest more if you would like or come to the kitchen if you’re hungry.’

‘I…I’d like to shower first,’ Michael said.

‘I can show you how to work it,’ Spock said quickly.

‘All right.’ It felt strange to be instructed by a seven-year old, but at least Spock seemed more open to her today.

Once Spock had gone, Michael showered and dressed into a fresh set of clothes from her traveling bag. She only had a few outfits. Most of her wardrobe had been left behind on the outpost, unsuited for Vulcan’s torrid climate.

Returning to the main living space she had been to yesterday, Michael saw a beautiful woman sitting at the long table in the dining area. The woman’s waist length brown hair was twined with roses, her lips were painted red, and her ears and eyebrows were rounded. She spotted Michael almost immediately and smiled brightly.

‘You must be Michael,’ the woman said, rising to her feet and offering her hand. ‘I am Amanda. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’

Michael took the proffered hand and shook it. ‘The pleasure is mine.’

Amanda broke the handshake gently. She touched Michael’s forearm. ‘I am so sorry for your loss.’

Michael stared down at her own bare feet and then at the Amanda’s, which were also bare – nails painted a pale blue. ‘Thank you.’

‘If there is anything I can do, don’t hesitate to ask.’

‘Thank you,’ Michael said again.

‘May I hug you?’ Amanda said.

‘If you want to.’

Amanda wrapped her arms around Michael and pressed her close. Michael relaxed against her. She thought of her own mother, hugging her that last time. There was the same warmth and softness. Amanda had a different scent though, spicier. Michael’s mother always smelt like coconut and vanilla.

Michael started to cry again, and Amanda held her and whispered ‘I’m sorry’ over and over in a hushed voice. She rubbed Michael’s back and the back of her shoulders.

A couple minutes later, Michael’s sobs had stilled, and she became aware of eyes on them. She glanced over Amanda’s shoulder to see Sarek standing by the stove. His face was impassive. He did not look away when Michael looked at him. Spock was close to Sarek, nibbling on his nails.

Sarek pushed Spock’s hand down. ‘Don’t do that.’

Spock clasped his hands behind his back, obediently.

Michael pulled away from Amanda. ‘Thank you.’

She felt her cheeks heat up again, as much from anger as from shame. Sarek hadn’t lost anyone. He still had his family. How dare he judge her?

‘I made a quiche if you’re hungry,’ Amanda said, touching Michael again, this time on the shoulder. ‘It’s cooling right now, but it should be good-to-go in a minute or two.’

Amanda smiled once more, and Michael decided that she would be her best ally. Amanda was so warm, so welcoming. How could someone like that survive on this burning planet with these ice people?

After breakfast, Spock went to the learning center, and Amanda went to work, and Sarek went Michael-didn’t-know-where, but she was left alone. For a while, she just lay on her bed, feeling miserable, but eventually curiosity got the best of her. She decided to find Amanda’s room, which Spock said was on the same wing as hers. She wondered if it was customary for married Vulcans to share a bedroom, and she stopped in front of a door of dark blue opaque glass, wondering if that was the one. Vulcans were known to be a very private people. She didn’t think Amanda would mind her peeking in her room, but Sarek might find it invasive. Sighing, Michael returned to her room, bored and lonely. She watched a couple holo movies on her PADD and then slept until I-chaya woke her up again. This time he was howling outside. Spock was home.

Having skipped lunch, Michael was hungry, and she crept down to the kitchen.

‘Good afternoon,’ Spock said. He was sitting on the counter near the sink, looking through something on his PADD.

‘Afternoon.’ Michael smiled at Spock and glanced at the fridge.

‘Are you hungry?’ Spock said, putting his PADD back in his school bag. ‘Mother bought some earth food for you. She came to check on you earlier, but you were sleeping. She told me to make sure you had everything you needed.’

‘Ah, yeah, I’m hungry.’ Michael looked through the contents of the freezer and the fridge. She picked out a bag of frozen fries and put them in a pan with oil and salt. She stuck that in the oven. Spock watched her with mild interest, kicking his legs idly.

‘You’re going to want some, yeah?’ Michael said.

Spock tilted his head. ‘I suppose.’

‘Okay, good.’ Michael leaned against the counter. She was painfully aware of her own breathing. It was a bit heavy. ‘How’s school?’

‘Instructional. Would you like me to turn up the cooling system?’

Michael nodded. ‘Yes, please.’

‘Computer,’ Spock said. ‘Increase cooling factor and air circulation.’

Immediately, Michael felt the caress of cool air on her face and body. ‘Thanks.’

‘It is no problem,’ Spock said, and this time Michael was sure he smiled.

When the fries came out of the oven, Michael put them on a large serving platter and set them at the center of the table. She drizzled the fries with ketchup and vinegar.

‘There! Finished.’ Michael grinned at Spock. She set out two bottles of root beer and popped hers open, taking a large gulp of the sweet fizz.

Spock sat down opposite Michael and looked down at the fries dubiously. ‘You really eat them with your fingers?’

‘Yeah,’ Michael said.

‘That seems unhygienic…’

‘That’s why you wash your hands before you eat.’

Spock shifted in his chair. ‘But you get grease on your fingers.’

‘Well, you don’t _have_ to eat them with your fingers. You could use a utensil, but it takes away some of the fun.’

‘Fun?’

Michael sighed. ‘Surely, your mother has taught you what fun means.’

‘Yes,’ Spock said, ‘but I fail to see why getting grease on your fingers is considered a pleasurable experience.’

Michael rolled her eyes. ‘It’s the level of simplicity, convenience.’

‘All right.’ Spock watched Michael closely as she lifted a thin potato stick to her lips and munched it down. He copied her.

Michael smiled and stuffed five fries in her mouth at once. Spock hesitated for a moment, before performing the same action.

Michael giggled. Spock looked slightly alarmed.

‘Sorry,’ Michael said. ‘You’re just cute.’

‘Cute?’ Spock said, blinking at her.

Michael shrugged. ‘Yeah, you’re cute. You act cute, and you’ve got the whole baby face thing going on.’ She took another gulp of her root beer.

Spock opened his. He tasted it and jerked back. ‘It’s sharp.’

‘It’s fizzy, carbonated. You’ll get used to it.’

Spock nodded and sipped it slowly. ‘Do you think my father intends for us to marry?’

Root beer flew out of Michael’s mouth and shot into the air in front of her. She choked. ‘Wh-what?’

‘Do you think my father intends for you and me to marry each other,’ Spock said slowly.

Michael wrinkled her nose. ‘Why would you think that?’

‘Well…’ Spock licked his lip. ‘He didn’t say anything to that effect?’

‘No,’ Michael said. ‘Why would he?’

‘No reason.’ Spock filled his mouth with fries. His dark eyes were downcast.

‘No!’ Michael said. ‘You can’t just bring something up like that, and then not explain.’

Spock swallowed down the fries with a swig of root beer. He sighed and shifted in his chair. ‘It’s just maybe no Vulcan family will want me as their son-in-law. Perhaps that’s why Sarek brought you here, so that we could be mates.’

‘You’re seven! What do you know about mating?’

‘I am fully aware of the mating process,’ Spock said indignantly. ‘And it not unusual for Vulcans to become betrothed at my age.’

‘Why?’ Michael said. ‘I see no logical reason why Vulcans would choose their mates at such a young age. Your brain is still developing. How would you know you would remain compatible with the other person once you had both matured?’

Spock’s brows furrowed, and he took another gulp of the root beer to avoid answering the question.

‘Spock?’ Michael said. ‘Spock, I don’t understand.’

‘I…I don’t know if I can explain,’ Spock said. ‘You’re not Vulcan.’

‘So?’

‘It’s not something we discuss with outworlders.’ Spock put a hand to his head and then slumped forward against the table.

‘Spock!’ Michael said. ‘Spock, what’s wrong?’

‘I don’t know,’ Spock said. ‘I suddenly felt dizzy.’ He pushed himself up to his feet, using the table as a brace, but when he moved away from it towards his bag on the counter, he stumbled. He made a grab for the counter but fell.

‘Shit, shit, shit!’ Michael’s eyes whirled around the room, trying to think of something to do.

‘Would you hand me my PADD?’ Spock said from the floor. ‘It might be an allergy.’

‘Of course.’ Michael took Spock’s PADD out of his schoolbag and handed it to him. ‘Should we call a doctor?’

‘Not unless absolutely necessary,’ Spock said. ‘I hate…am disinclined towards going to the hospital…all the prodding and poking.’ He shivered and scrolled through his PADD. ‘Oh.’ He set the PADD on the floor and sighed. ‘I’m drunk.’

‘What?’ Michael said.

‘It’s the sugar,’ Spock said. ‘In the soft drink. Sucrose has an intoxicating effect on Vulcans.’

‘Shit,’ Michael said. ‘I got you drunk! Shittt. Sarek is going to be so pissed.’

Spock shrugged. ‘You didn’t know. It was mother who was careless, and me. It’s not your fault.’

‘I think we should get you to a doctor,’ Michael said. ‘I mean you’re so small, the impact would be bigger.’

‘I don’t want to,’ Spock said.

Michael grabbed Spock’s PADD. ‘What is your doctor’s number?’

‘Which one?’ Spock said dryly. ‘I have seven.’

Michael stared at the writing on the PADD. It was all in Vulcan. ‘Translate to standard,’ she ordered.

The writing on the PADD quickly shifted. Michael went into Spock’s contacts. No one was labeled as a doctor, there were just names.

‘The chances of my dying from such limited consumption are extremely miniscule,’ Spock said.

‘But there is a chance?’ Michael said. ‘There’s sugar in the ketchup too! You’re giving me a name right now!’

‘Dyyr,’ Spock said. ‘I like him best. If I have to see a doctor…’ He closed his eyes.

‘You’d better stay awake,’ Michael said.

‘Okay,’ Spock said sleepily. He blinked at her. ‘You’re so concerned.’

‘Yeah, I don’t want to be responsible for killing a kid, especially not Ambassador Sarek’s kid.’

Spock stretched. ‘Most people wouldn’t mourn. Everyone thought I would be stillborn, and then when I wasn’t they waited for the experiment to glitch. I’m unnatural. The geneticists had to tamper extensively with the DNA to create a viable zygote. I have read countless theories on how these changes will backfire. So far, there has only been one serious incident – which the doctors were able to contain and then remedy – but the truth is, I should never have been born. I think even my father knows this.’

‘Well, what about you?’ Michael said, selecting Dyyr from the contact list and pushing the call button. ‘Do you really want to miss out on your one chance of living?’

‘What I want is irrelevant,’ Spock said. ‘The needs of the whole are greater than those of the one. And I have already unnecessarily deprived Vulcan of scientific and medical resources.’

‘By existing?’

Spock nodded. ‘Exactly.’

 A soft voice came through the PADD. ‘Tonk'peh?’

‘I’ll take it,’ Spock said.

Michael handed the PADD over, and Spock briefly conversed in Vulcan with the speaker then he dropped the PADD in his lap. ‘Dyrr will be here in five point four minutes.’


	3. Spock

Dyyr arrived a minute and a half sooner than his own prediction. He was breathless and dropped immediately down by Spock’s side, his tricorder already out and set to scan. His dark eyes scrutinized the readings.

“You’ll live,” he said, “but it’s likely you will vomit soon.”

Spock frowned. He had already made the same deduction. He felt guilty for making Dyyr come to say exactly what he already knew. He wondered if guilt counted as an emotion. He supposed being guilty wasn’t an emotion but feeling guilty was. In which case Spock was guilty of feeling guilty, and of feeling guilty for feeling guilty. It was terribly circular. In any case, he felt sick and sleepy, so sleepy. He leaned his head against Dyyr’s chest. It was broad and somewhat hard. He kept his eyes focused on the diamond on Dyyr’s IDIC pendant – bright and blurring in the light from the overhead lamp.

‘I would suggest drinking water,’ Dyyr was saying, ‘and maybe eating a little bread.’

Out of the corner of his eye, Spock saw Michael rush to fill a glass with water. Dyyr took it from her with a brief nod of acknowledgement. He tilted Spock’s head back just a little and had him slowly drink the water. Spock stared up at Dyyr, and though the water was cold, Spock felt a warmth growing inside him. He leaned into the other Vulcan’s touch.

‘As I have no other duties this afternoon,’ Dyyr was saying, “I shall remain here until your parents return.”

‘That is not necessary,’ Spock said. ‘You said yourself…I’m in no danger.’

‘Nevertheless,’ Dyrr said, ‘I shall remain. It is possible that you could fall asleep and then choke to death on your own vomit.’

Spock sat up straighter. ‘Does father have to know?’

‘I will not deceive you father, Spock,’ Dyyr said. ‘But I will spare you having to deal with him right away. It’s my professional medical opinion that you should not undergo anymore stress tonight.’

Spock slumped down again. ‘I’m...feel so weird…’

‘Yes,” Dyyr said. ‘That’s understandable.” He lifted Spock up and lay him down on the couch. ‘Rest now.’ He turned to Michael and nodded his head in greeting. “You must be Michael Burnham.”

Michael flinched. ‘You know about me?’

‘Sarek mentioned that you would be staying with him,’ Dyyr said. ‘I studied on Earth for a time, so I am familiar with human anatomy. And though there _are_ a few human doctors living on Vulcan, I serve as a healer in the S'chn T'gai household, a role that my mother held before me, and her father before her. It would honour me if you would accept me as your primary care physician.’

Michael’s forehead and nose scrunched, one eyebrow lifted, and her lips pursed. Spock had seen this expression on his mother before. It was…confusion? He watched Michael closely to see if his estimate was correct. Or as closely as he could. His eyes were blinking fast, threatening to shut.

‘Ah, I…’ Michael began, then she cleared her throat and bowed her head. ‘The honour is mine, sir.’

Spock felt hot bile rise to his mouth. He swallowed it back down. ‘I need a bowl.’

Immediately, Dyyr went to fetch one. He set it down and moved Spock’s head over it. Spock threw up. He paused and breathed then threw up again. He stared down at the chunks of potato floating in the reddish-brown liquid. He took a heaving breathe. The inside of his mouth felt hot and tasted bitter.

When he looked up again, Spock saw his mother running to his side. Her eyes were wide, and her hands fluttered at her sides. She looked beautiful and delicate, like an Earth bird. And at once, he had an impulse to protect her from the truth. He knew she would blame herself, and yes, it was mostly her fault, but her regret was always painfully visible. He couldn’t bear it. Compassion was a weakness. Anything that hindered a logical order of events should be suppressed. But with humans, it was hard. They did little to hide their pain. He could not understand how his father deflected feelings so easily. How could one be joined with chaos, and yet remain neutral? Spock ached with Amanda, as she ached for him. But he could not tell her. Not one ‘I love you’ had ever passed his lips, and even now with inhibitions down, all he could do was retch.

‘What happened?’ Amanda said.

Spock felt himself shudder. He grasped onto Dyyr’s hand, but his thoughts were scattering and all he managed to communicate was: _Please._ He wasn’t even sure what he was begging Dyyr to do.

Dyyr rubbed Spock’s wrist. ‘It is simply a case of indigestion, Lady Amanda. Spock does not seem to have the stomach for Earth food, but he will be fine. All he requires now is rest and liquids to replenish what he has lost.’

Amanda nodded. ‘It must be the grease. You Vulcans eat so healthily.’

Dyyr raised an eyebrow. ‘Perhaps. I would also suggest that you prevent Spock from intaking any sugar. Vulcans have a hard time processing it, especially at his age.’

‘All right,’ Amanda said. ‘I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.’

Dyyr bowed his head. ‘I would like to continue to monitor him, just as a precaution.’

‘All right,’ Amanda said again. She bit her lip. ‘But you think he’ll be okay?’

‘Yes.’ Dyyr nodded. ‘He should be just fine.’ He rested his fingers lightly on Spock’s head, and Spock felt himself fall asleep.


	4. Michael

 

 

Sarek did not return that night. Nor the night after that. When Michael asked about it, Amanda shrugged, ‘He’s busy.’ She would not be pressed for details, expertly changing the subject every time it was brought up. Michael wondered if Sarek’s busyness had anything to do with her. Perhaps, she would not be allowed to remain on Vulcan after all. She did not know what to feel about the matter either way. Vulcan wasn’t exactly paradise, but there was nothing for her on earth now. Maybe she could make a new start here. If she was accepted.

A week after her arrival, Amanda took Michael shopping.

‘Just us girls,’ she had said brightly, like a character from an old Earth movie. She handed Michael a bright pink parasol and took a mint green one for herself.

Michael twisted the parasol in her hand. ‘Do Vulcans use these?’

Amanda smiled. ‘All the time, especially in the afternoon when the sun peaks. They’re considered more of a practical application than a fashion statement, but they do make them in pretty colors.’

Outside, the sun was overwhelming. Amanda looped arms with Michael. ‘I want you to meet my baby.’

She guided a perplexed Michael around to the side of the building where a grounded, gold hovercar lay.

‘Isn’t she a beauty?’ Amanda said.

Michael nodded and reached out her hand to touch the metal side.

‘Careful,’ Amanda said, grasping Michael’s wrist. ‘It’s going to be hot, out here in the sun all day. Poor baby.’ She laughed and shook her head. ‘Sorry, I do that all the time with Sarek. He gets so embarrassed when I talk about my desert flier like it’s a person, but she’s a quirky individual. Of course, Sarek would just tell me I need to take her in for minor repairs, but,’ Amanda rolled her eyes. ‘that’s not going to happen.’

She opened the front doors with a PADD and tossed her folded parasol in the back seat. Michael climbed into the front passenger seat, surprised that it was not actually hot.

Amanda closed the door after them and started the engine. ‘So, have you ever driven at all?’

‘I’m eleven,’ Michael said flatly.

‘Mmm,’ Amanda said. ‘Well, yes, but that didn’t stop me. Stole my big sis’s hovercar when I was ten, went on a bit of joy ride.’ She pursed her lips. ‘I was a terrible, terrible child. Please don’t pick me as a role model.’ She cracked a smile.

Michael smiled back. ‘I shall endeavor to act completely opposite.’

‘Oh, don’t do that either,’ Amanda said. ‘I don’t want to live with a human statue who only drinks pickle juice and spends hours concentrating on bringing malevolent power out into the world.’

Michael peered at her. ‘That’s the exact opposite of you?’

Amanda shrugged. ‘More or less.’ She got the flier off the ground and curved it gracefully around to the front of the building.

‘You’re good,’ Michael said.

‘Uh, yeah, when I was young I used to want to be a pilot, but I ended up going into teaching instead, because it has a better sleep schedule and kids are a blast. Do you know what you want to be when you grow up?’

‘A scientist,’ Michael said. ‘Where do you teach?’

‘An admirable pursuit. I teach at the embassy, but also at the Learning Center, mostly language and cultural studies.’ The flier was now moving smoothly up the street. The inside of the vehicle was much cooler than the outside of the air, and Amanda had put on a playlist of offbeat, love songs. ‘Any specific field you’re interested in?’

‘I’m not sure yet,’ Michael said, blushing. Spock probably already knew exactly what academy he was going to study at, what his specialty would be, and where that degree would take him in his career.

‘That’s perfectly fine,’ Amanda said. ‘You have all the time in the world to worry about the future. Right now – do you like popsicles?’

‘What?’

‘Popsicles, they’re super popular here. Vulcans make these really fancy ones, think ice sculptures but in a rainbow of fruity colors. We just passed one of the best places, but we can maybe pop by on the way back, if you like?’

‘Okay,’ Michael said, smiling.

‘Splendid.’ Amanda steered her flier into a spot on the side of the street and jumped out. Michael got out on the other side, and Amanda closed the doors remotely. She stuck the PADD in her pocket and took Michael’s hand, holding her parasol in the other hand. Michael left her parasol in the vehicle. Amanda tssked softly but held hers over the two of them.

‘What would you say your style is?’ Amanda said.

‘Don’t know,’ Michael said.

Amanda pursed her lips. ‘Well, we shall see then.’ She took Michael to several stores, and Michael picked out clothes in grey and beige and navy –

colours that would not draw attention.

‘Why does everyone stare so much?’ Michael said, when they had stopped for lunch at a mall restaurant.

‘On Vulcan, it’s considered polite to stare as it shows interest,’ Amanda said. ‘If you stare back, they will usually give a nod of acknowledgement and find something else to be interested in.’

‘Okay.’ Michael moved the cold soup in her bowl around with spoon but didn’t eat it. ‘That works for you?’

‘Most of the time,’ Amanda said. ‘If not and if they are invading my personal space, I usually just tell them to fuck off.’

‘They don’t get angry?’

‘No,’ Amanda said. ‘Or well, I don’t know what they feel, but Vulcans very rarely express anger. It’s humans I have more trouble with. Some of them have this absurd notion that my life with my husband is cold and unfulfilling, and I’ll run away with the first man who winks at me.’

Michael nodded thoughtfully. She wondered herself why Amanda stuck around with a man who would never allow himself to show her love. It seemed torturous. But Amanda did seem content, despite everything. Maybe there was more to Vulcans that their outward poise. Michael would need more time to make a proper assessment.


End file.
